


In League with the Devil

by legendarytobes



Series: the devil and trixie espinoza [4]
Category: Constantine (TV), Lucifer (Comic), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, BAMF Trixie Decker, Body Horror, Gen, Protective Lucifer, Step-Devil, Step-Satan, Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar Friendship, devil bod, devil body, full-on devil, post- Devil of My Word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 19:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20841098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarytobes/pseuds/legendarytobes
Summary: Lucifer contacts his sister, Azrael, for a way to enable Maze to be invisible when she needs to guard Trixie around campus. He also seeks out John Constantine for more information on the magical community of New Orleans and on Miracles.





	In League with the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Fleem definitely pointed out and I've edited the summary of the series above to indicate these are each stories but they're not stand-alones. You definitely have to start with part 1 and read through.
> 
> 2) Some of this will get more into some comics stuff, especially in the next installment with Michael and demiurge things but it's mentioned here. 
> 
> 3) I'm mixing a bit of mythos between Lucifer the show, a bit from Lucifer comics, and also with Constantine TV (and some of the triumvirate stuff adjusted a bit from Legends of Tomorrow though not a real crossover). So that's sort of how things ended up lining up.

**In League with the Devil**

Lucifer was grateful for the flexibility of human behavior. Ever since he’d met (and, alright, done so much more with) Eve in the Garden, he’d been envious not just of humanity’s free will but also of their ability to adapt. Angels rarely seemed to, and he found himself the exception among his siblings. Part of where his problems started from, frankly. However, humans seemed to be able, most of the time, adjust to anything thrown at them. He’d watched how Beatrice had switched from existential panic and an earned breakdown over the vampires (and Dad knew what else in the supernatural community) coming for her to equanimity. After her initial fear, once Maze had retrieved her Spanish books, the urchin had changed tracks completely and spent the bulk of the day reviewing for her exams.

Now, she’d finally nodded off beside him on the sofa.

She’d needed that, that distraction from life and death matters, from predators who had no business with her and were too greedy to realize exactly _who_ they were pissing off. The spawn was terrified, clearly, but Lucifer meant what he said, and he’d never broken a promise before. If any vampire, witch, voodoo practioner or whatever else thought they could waltz into _Tenebrae_ and just take her, then they merely need to try it. There was a reason the Lilim were his most trusted guards, even apart from Mazikeen. The interlopers would be in _pieces_, but he and Maze both would ensure that tearing any threat apart would take _months_.

  
After all, it had been almost eight years since he’d made an example of something that had crossed him. Hell knew who its true master was, and the punishment he’d doled out to a particularly traitorous demon a couple years after he’d come to New Orleans had cemented that reputation, even if he’d mainly abdicated. Demons feared him, as they should. If he had to put the fear of the Devil into every preternatural being in the Big Easy, he would.

It would be his utmost pleasure.

Sighing to himself, he turned off the television and stood. Surveying the sofa, he calculated his next move. The urchin had eventually lost her battle with consciousness, and then she’d slumped over the sofa arm. He was going to save the mention of the way she’d drooled, just a little, for an opportune blackmail moment. Dad help him, at least she didn’t snore like an Albanian field wench.

Lucifer debated between waking her and taking her upstairs, himself. He was leery to wake Beatrice whenever she was deep in slumber. He was no fool. Halfway groggy humans tended to take the infernal---especially him---even worse than fully cognizant ones. His friend tried so hard, but he didn’t want to rouse her and inadvertently terrify her at the same time. Beatrice had suffered through far too much terror this weekend, hadn’t she? On the other hand, scooping her up would be a delicate process. Over the decade, he’d given up and retreated far more than he probably should have.

That was easy.

Trying to practice, to keep claws made to shred through almost anything from tearing the world around them was a painstaking and dull process. It was easier to let the objects around him suffer his wrath and, after the worst of the ire had abated over the first few years, to simply stop trying to touch at all, unless absolutely necessary. But in the last month…he’d been more inspired.

Blasted urchin.

He was a sucker for those brown eyes boring into his, as he always had been, and he could no more say “no” to her entreaties now than he had when she’d been a child begging for cash or chocolate cake (the fact that it made her pliable was, of course, a bonus back then as well).

So, between risking her jumping at the sight of the resident monster or, more accurately, the main one in _Tenebrae’s_ tower, and picking her up oh-so-slowly to keep her asleep while he carried her, Lucifer finally decided to just pick her up.

Fireman’s carry was out both because it would probably rouse her and, due to the damned spines on his back, get her pierced. So, he bent low and eased his hands under her hips and her shoulders and picked her up. He kept his palms and fingertips as flat as he could and barely breathed as he carried her up the stairs and to his bedroom. He’d just finished rebuilding the large, possibly futile wall of pillows between them, when she yawned and blinked up at him.

“What time is it?”

“Close to midnight. I think by now, urchin, either you’re ready for your midterm on magical realism and the like, or you are not. The washroom is free so please do as you must to get ready for bed. Or, as I suggest, go back to sleep and Maze and I will ensure you’re up in time to make it to your exams.”

Beatrice yawned again and looked down at her sweats and t-shirt. “I can sleep in this and everyone looks like crap on test day.” She punctuated her point by grabbing one of the non-wall pillows tighter to her chest and grinning. “This bed is like the comfiest thing ever, like a cloud or something.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Creature comforts, remember? Get rest, spawn. Mazikeen and Takazeen of course are here, but the rest of the Lilim are on the floor below.”

“You have five demons sharing a couch?”

“There are also air mattresses.” He shrugged and slipped carefully onto his side of the more-than-California-king bed. Lucifer slid onto his side and faced the Great Wall of Pillows. It was the only logical angle as it kept his spines as far away as possible from the urchin, in case her just throw feathers at them approach didn’t work. “The Lilim don’t sleep as their demon selves.” He sighed and curled his claws up tightly against his palms, ignoring the way they bit into his skin. Better the flesh that would heal soon enough than tearing through his own mattress. “As you can tell, it’s rather cumbersome for resting or, frankly, doing anything top side.”  


She smiled back at him, making a point to arc her neck up so she could pop up much like a whack-a-mole over the wall. “I dunno. You seem very useful for scaring vampires. I…thank you again. I am so embarrassed,” she set her head back on her pillow, and he could only hear her once more.

“You should not be. Mazikeen and I had dinner with Cheryl too and neither of us detected her subterfuge.”

“What will happen to her?”

“Nothing good once Maze finds her, even if she’s under that nest’s protection.”

“You can’t…”

“Oh, Maze very much can. She’s the loophole for the ‘no killing humans’ rule,” he huffed. “Cheryl would have delivered you to a slow, painful, decades’ long death after confinement, Beatrice. You cannot say that rat hasn’t earned what is coming to her.”

“Maze can’t.”

“I don’t control her. She’s my friend and my most trusted guard, but I do not technically hold Maze in servitude any longer. I haven’t since we were in Los Angeles. If she chooses to kill Cheryl, that is her choice.”

“_I’ll_ talk to her. I won’t…vampires are one thing. You’re right. They’re already dead and apparently just go around snacking on people all over the place. Great, get rid of them.”

“Quite.”

“But Cheryl’s _human_, and she was my friend.”

“Not much of one.”

“But,” she lifted her head to glare at him. It would have been impressive if he’d only been human. Of course, he was far more and, at the same time, far less than that. “no human killing and no torture. I won’t be a part of that.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s your parents in you.”

“We agreed that---”

“Yes, but human justice doesn’t apply to supernatural problems. It’s not the same.”

  
“I don’t think an eye for an eye has done _anyone_ in this room any good.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to say something---anything---but shut it soon after. She had him there. The loophole of letting Maze run wild by proxy or not, anything that resulted in a human death was more blood on his hands. He was tired of it, and too weighed down both with Uriel’s loss and all the fallout from Cain. She wasn’t wrong, although he would not acquiesce because it was wrong to arrange for Cheryl’s death because that bitch had willing thrown the urchin under the bus in the most horrific way possible. _No_. He would hold off because he was already eyeball deep in his Father’s wrath and had no intention of making his life sentence worse.

And, perhaps most of all, he stayed his hand and finally, after far too much silence, promised to speak with Mazikeen, himself, because he could not afford to have Beatrice think ill of him. He was…morally flexible was a generous term for it, but he could exist in the grays of things more than he ever had in Los Angeles. Personally, it would not bother him, but Beatrice was the daughter of two cops (even if Daniel’s record was somewhat soiled by Palmetto), and her moral compass was annoyingly strong.

So, yes, he’d stay on the straight and narrow. For now.

“Fine,” she replied after he promised to talk with Maze. “I’m serious, she’s _human_, and she’s hurting and confused and…”

“She sold you out so she could become a slave for the people who almost ate her. Don’t rhapsodize, urchin.”

“I’m _not_, but I feel guilty, Lucifer. I could have been smarter or said ‘hey, maybe we don’t hang out in a cemetery at four a.m.,’ you know?” She sniffled. “I didn’t help her when I had the chance either.”

“Trust me, child, some people can’t be saved. I will speak with Maze, and we won’t seek out deserved retribution for now.”  


“Gee, thanks.”  


His voice was low when he spoke again and, try as he might, he couldn’t quite keep the growl out of it. “Hell is not built on mercy, never was. This is newer for both of us, even after twenty years, spawn. My point is that the amnesty stands for now. If she comes here, if she touches you again in anyway, I will _not_ be so kind. And Mazikeen…well, then Cheryl will understand what it means to meet with Hell’s best torturer. Be a dove and let your sorority sister know that if you bump into her.”  


“You can’t.”

“We very much can,” he said, glad that he couldn’t see her reaction, just the wall of red silk of the pillows instead. He was certain he wouldn’t like what he’d find. “No one gets a second chance from us, so she would be wise to leave you be and hide under Esmée’s poodle skirt.”

“Vengeance against a scared human girl---”

“Would have been deserved,” he finished.

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I _could_…” He wanted to roll over and get more comfortable but this position was just safest for company. The last thing he wanted was for her to gore herself on the damn spines on his back. Instead he clenched his fists tighter at his sides. “…Urchin, your rules just changed. You’re _other_, even if you can’t do much with it. Whilst your preternatural nature appears passive, you still aren’t fully human, not technically, one supposes. It’s enough to make you valuable and now a player in the world that goes bump in the night. Congratulations, but with such an upgrade---”

“So debatable.”

“With that comes new rules. The justice your parents cling to and mete out…it no longer applies.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Kill or be killed is where we are.”

“No, it’s really not, at least not with humans in the crossfire. If it were, your dad wouldn’t have made his opinion on the whole ‘killing humans’ thing clear.”

Lucifer’s jaw ticked and something low and menacing rumbled in his throat before he finally was able to speak again. “I would do it again.”

Beatrice bolted up in bed and, whilst she couldn’t possibly see more than his eyes in the dark, he could see all of her, especially the way her own eyes widened with worry. “You don’t mean that.”

“I did not believe that, no. For the last ten years, I’ve thought over and over about how I could have done better, been smarter, just let the rage go. But he almost killed your mother. His henchmen would have if not for a couple inches, a Kevlar vest, and my _wings_ as a shield. The anger…it cools, and one forgets. Until yesterday when I saw what Esmée and her minions were doing to you, when all I wanted to do was shred that bitch slowly and for _decades_ until I finally annihilated her, then I knew some rage never really abates. For your family, I suppose, I never have regrets, and I cannot fully explain that.”

“Well, I know I’m super fun, but I’m not ‘murder to avenge me’ worth it.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, grateful that she resettled on her side of the mattress. “Cheryl is safe, and I honestly suspect as their familiar she will stick with their nest and far from us. However, don’t mistake my nature or _what_ I am.”

“You’re a good man and you catch murderers and run a slightly cheesy yet totally necessary for you themed night club and eat too many cool ranch puffs and---”

“No, Beatrice. I am far more than that, and I play by the rules both because the last time I didn’t, I lost everything, and because it matters to you. But I’m still very much the Devil, and I am built from as much rage and violence as any Lilim. Don’t forget that.”

“But…”

“I’m not a good man, urchin.” He sighed and reached across the wall of pillows. Reaching carefully out until he set one, large hand over her shoulder. He placed his claws down over her skin and let them rest there just enough for her to feel pressure but not the prick (or worse) of the sharp nails. “I’m not a man at all. So, for you I stay my hand.” He pulled his arm back then and balled his hand back into a fist at his side. “If you ever asked---if you ever so _desired_ it---I would stop holding back.”

“I don’t want to be your Jiminy Cricket. That’s not fair.”

Lucifer barked out a laugh, and it was not shrill. Surely, it wasn’t. “Oh, child, whoever said life was fair?”

**

He didn’t wake till some time past noon. Beatrice had slipped out for her exams and taken both Maze and Taka with her at his behest. He trusted the Lilim to flank her well and keep an eye on her in the lecture halls, at least for today. He had bigger business to deal with, starting with summoning his sister, and then figuring out how to get in touch with John Constantine. He wasn’t sure which task was more onerous.

Lucifer made quick work of getting cleaned up in his washroom. Stripped bare was something he tried to be as briefly as possible. He didn’t want to know or see or allow the reality of it to sink in for too long. It was why, in such stark contrast with his bathroom at the old penthouse, no reflective surface, let alone mirror, was allowed there. He could admit that now he did have an advantage in the speed with which he was ready for things. It once took close to two hours to be readied for the precinct or for an appearance at Lux. The Detective teased him mercilessly on that, but she didn’t have naturally curly hair. She hadn’t _known_.

But now, it was clean as fast as he could in the shower or, on days when his skin burned too harshly to ignore, a dip in the tub with the water set as cold as he could get it. Today, a shower sufficed. He made his way then to his closet and that was easy too. No waistcoats or suit coats to coordinate, no colorful pocket squares to choose between. Only the trousers he’d had made for him, mostly black, but occasionally grey or a few more eccentric colors in the line-up. Lucifer selected a hunter green pair of slacks and slipped them on as well.

Then, he settled on his sofa in his lounge and brought his hands close to his chest. He hadn’t prayed to Azrael in eons. He knew she’d watched him, made herself invisible to even him, at least once during her time in Los Angeles. If she’d been following Miss Lopez around the crime scene undetected…at least aside from Ella, then she could also control the invisibility to an exacting degree as well. It was not her gift. Azrael had been created able to slip through any realm with a thought; that was her power. She didn’t need clearance for any part of Hell or Heaven, could go to other universes if she were so needed. Whatever it took to ferry the souls Father demanded be escorted to and fro.

So, she’d learned the invisibility trick somewhere else.

He pressed his fingers together, steepled them as best he could and spoke out loud, his voice echoing across the empty expanse of his flat. “Rae Rae, please, I need to speak with you.”

There was nothing for a minute, and Lucifer was about to ask her again, this time clarifying that a human life was at stake or he wouldn’t bother to bug his sister, when the achingly familiar flutter of _feathered _wings sounded behind him.

“Hey, Lu, so I guess I finally got to pop in ‘later,’ huh?”

He sighed and didn’t turn to face her. For all his bluster with Beatrice last night, for all his talk of being the former Lord of Hell, he was a coward on some things. Everything that involved Azrael was fraught with fear and anxiety. He should have…and she should have…and they hadn’t. End of the day, no matter how they’d clung to each other in the Silver City, and he’d tried to protect her from Michael and Gabriel’s bullying, in the end of it all, they had fallen apart. She’d sided with Dad---because _everyone_ did---and he’d never bothered to seek her out. Not once. Not in hundreds of vacations (often naked, one day orgy-based ones but still) to Earth.

But he couldn’t…the only member of the host who had seen him like this was Amenadiel and only the once. He just didn’t want more judgement. It was all he’d ever gotten from his family.

“Lucifer, I _know_,” she said, passing around the sofa and coming to stand in front of him. His sister still sported her Coke bottle glasses for whatever asinine reason and her bowl haircut. She’d switched out her fish-based t-shirt for an old Nirvana concert tee instead. Dad help him, he could still have taught her about fashion, if she were interested. “We all know.”

Pain lanced through his chest in a way it hadn’t since he’d been tossed into a lake of fire, since he’d seen the Silver City’s perfect streets lined with his siblings and been marched through all of it to view their scorn and anger. He wasn’t supposed to care what they thought. He’d Fallen eons ago, had at least his Devil face since before the human race even existed. The host had always thought of him as a monster. This was no different.

Not truly.

“I’m sure, then, that I’m quite the entertainment for all of you, watching from your so-called utopia as I fumble and fail and keep falling down. Do I come with a laugh track up there?”

“Lu, don’t.”

He arched a scarred eyebrow ridge up at her but did not leave his seat. “Why ever not? Our siblings must have eagerly watched this last decade and had a belly full of laughs over it. Did they serve popcorn to make the amusement that much more complete?”

“I don’t know what the others did or wanted. I don’t…I’m really busy, and I’m rarely in the Silver City when I’m not on duty.” She took a step toward him but stopped when he growled at her.

Embarrassed, he looked away. It had been instinctual, not intended. The end result of too much rage and hatred---mostly at himself, but still---that he could no longer contain. “I apologize. I’m the one who called you. Please, don’t leave because I’m short-tempered.”

“Oh, so you think that’s a new development in the last ten years. That’s quaint, Lu,” Azrael rolled her eyes and took a few steps closer, this time setting a hand on his shoulder. When she perceived the texture there, her eyes teared up, and he wished firmly he could be _anywhere_ but here (yes, even Hell). “I’m so very sorry. You just…Dad laid out the rules. Why do you always have to break them?”

“It was _Chloe_,” he hissed. Fat lot of good it did him in the end. “It was all about her, and Cain didn’t deserve to live after he tried to slaughter her.”

“You’re not sorry.”

He shook his head. “I hate the punishment; I do not regret committing the crime. The Detective is alive, well, and happy.” _Without me, never with me_. “And that’s what matters, and not just to me but for her family…for her child.”

“Okay, so awkward family reunion aside, Lu, what do you really want?” Azrael shocked him by diving onto his sofa, bum first, and bouncing a bit beside him.

“Are you on a sugar high?”

“I grabbed a ton of gummy bears an hour ago before a mudslide in California. Anyhoo, you wouldn’t call me unless some serious shit is going down. Is this an Apocalypse?”

He sighed and scratched at his nose with one claw. “It says quite a bit about our family that the literal end of the world would be the only conceivable reason we’d communicate.”

She quirked her head at him and adjusted her glasses on her nose. “Well, is it?”

“No, but someone I care deeply about…my, well for lack of a better word, my _ward_ is in danger.”

“Like Robin?”

He laughed for the first time in a very long time. She’d always had that way with him. “Yes, exactly, we have capes and fight crime. Don’t be daft, Rae Rae.”

“Then, you need to make with the explanations. I have a full plate with, you know, the death thing and then I try and hang with Ella weekly. She did stay in L.A., you know. She still has tribe nights with Linda and now other women at the precinct. But…losing you and Chloe hurt her too. She’s pretty lonely.”

Lucifer rubbed carefully at his temples. He did have an impossible talent for poisoning every relationship he’d ever had. Perhaps that had always been his gift, just as Amenadiel’s had been time or Uriel’s had been understanding patterns. Maybe he wasn’t here for desire but for ruin. “I am sorry. However, I’m sure Miss Lopez has dodged quite the bullet by not associating with or being lashed to me.”

“I wouldn’t say---”

“Haven’t seen you in ten years, Sis. There’s busy and then there’s hot air over trying to make things up to me.”

His sister’s wings drooped. He had her there. “I came, you know. I came every day here for a month, but I didn’t…you were so angry, and you tore up so much of the top floors day after day for weeks. I didn’t know if I’d make it better or worse. I wasn’t sure you knew that _we all knew_.”

“I know now.”

“Would it have been easier to know that then?”

He sighed and leaned back against the leather, albeit carefully, always so sodding carefully these days. “No, I would have…I would have done what _He_ wanted and gone to Hell and stayed. The thought of the lot of you feathered bastards having a go at me, probably watching this all like the funniest comedy you’d ever seen…it would have been too much.”

Her hand was on his shoulder again. “I never would have laughed. I don’t think this is funny, at all, Lu. Why do you keep doing this? You just never freaking listen. If you had…”

“Maybe the detective would be dead.” Although, then again, he knew that was a slim possibility. He could have stopped Cain sans murder; he simply had been too angry not to. “It’s too late now for me at least, but my friend, Beatrice…”

“Trixie Espinoza a.k.a. Chloe’s kid,” his sister supplied. “I’m not dense, dude. Ella and Chloe exchange birthday and Christmas cards still. I totally have heard all about Trixie. She’s pre-med here, right?”

“Well, it’s nice that Miss Lopez is still so chatty. I suppose the loss of her three best precinct companions didn’t break her but so much then,” he stood and started to pace. Normally, he’d want to drink but something was souring in his stomach. “Do you know what Chloe Decker and Beatrice Espinoza actually _are_?”

“Friends of Ella’s? Chloe’s totally like your one who got away…I dunno…Chloe’s still a cop so is that it?”

“You do not,” he frowned back at her but was only so surprised. Apparently, Michael going around making miracles was something only between his Father and his twin. Even if it weren’t, Michael and Azrael had always been the furthest thing from close. “I see Dad’s been more clandestine and opaque than ever about his side projects.”

  
“Huh?”

“They are miracles. Well, Beatrice is second generation, but both only exist because Amenadiel was tasked with blessing the detective’s mother so that she was no longer infertile, at least enough to conceive just once.”

“Holy crap!”

“Yes, so my friend…so Trixie is a half-miracle.” Was that even a thing? “But she was attacked by a local nest of vampires, and they tasted her, know how potent her blood is. They’re hunting her, and the logical step is for Mazikeen and Takazeen to be able to keep an eye on her at all times, to flank her as bodyguards.”

“Dude, so now Dad has humans just genned up from nowhere? When did that happen?”  


“Apparently for the Deckers, the late ‘70s,” Lucifer groused. “I was unaware of this for quite a while after I met her. I didn’t know Dad gave a toss about our love lives, least of all mine.” He laughed mirthlessly and flared out his wings.

He did not miss the way Azrael shuddered when she spied them. Of all the parts of himself, even the blasted claws, Lucifer loathed his wings the most. Funny. He’d been so desperate to rid himself of the feathered ones that awful year of Cain running amok in the precinct. He’d seen them as a symbol of his Father forcing an identity he no longer wanted onto him. Truly they were. But the real wings, at least, were divine and unearthly beautiful. Not these. The ravaged bat-like monstrosities he was saddled with now were mockeries of everything wings were supposed to be.

His sister recognized that too.

“Well, Lu, it’s not like he ever made me a partner period.”

  
“Well, surely, that never came to pass,” he bit back before continuing to pace again. “But Beatrice is in trouble due to her nature, whatever being a miracle entails. I need to be able to protect her, but campus police are not going to be welcoming to two women in pleather armed with hell-forged blades flanking her every step.”

“My invisibility thing.”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “How do you do that?”

“I…Death taught me.”

He quirked his head at her. “I never thought of you as one to hang with Dream or his siblings.”

“Well ‘Angel of’ and actual Death have a lot in common. Our jobs sometimes overlap, so it happens. She taught me how millennia ago as it makes reaping what she’s sowed that much simpler for me. It’s a spell, a simple incantation based in Enochian. A few lines.”

“Lilim cannot speak that language. The infernal are forbidden from it.”

“Yeah, totally, but since I’m an angel, wasn’t a problem. It’s really very short. I can teach you. You should be able to say it, imagine Maze or whoever going all Sue Storm, and then say the lines again and envision Maze being normal to undo it. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy!”

He blinked. Sometimes his sister baffled him. “Huh?”

“Hello? _Fantastic Four_? Comics and stuff? She’s the invisible woman…and never mind.” She shook her head. “Lemme teach you the incantation and you can practice right now. I… Chloe’s super nice, and clearly Trixie means a lot to you. I don’t want a human to get hurt. I just have to collect the dead ones. I like the live ones a lot. I can totally help.”

“Thank you, Azrael. I apologize for being short with you earlier, for avoiding you these many years.”

She shrugged and pulled off her glasses to clean on the hem of her t-shirt. “I was avoiding you too.”

“Because of this,” he finished, pointing at himself with one, twisted finger and claw.

“Not the way you think. I…you’re not wrong but Michael and Gabriel…if they laugh at you, well, they always laughed at me and they’re freaking jerks, man. I just meant, at first you were so mad and ashamed, and then I was scared if I saw you, I’d start crying and never stop. I just…I was scared I’d make you feel _worse_.”

He nodded. “Perhaps you would have. The first years were…they were rough. I did not see much of anyone, except for Maze, and there was a lot of fisticuffs. Only because it was what Dad wanted---only to spite him---did I keep myself from retreating from Earth permanently. It did not mean that I kept myself from lashing out and fleeing everything else.” He sighed and ran a hand over his scalp, the furrows there both foreign---even now---and familiar. “If you can help me with Beatrice, it would mean so very much, Rae Rae.”

“Cool, no problem. Repeat after me,” she started, switching to Enochian for the last bit. “‘Let what is seen be unseen until I will the order rent asunder.’”

Lucifer committed the meaning and the lines, each syllable, to his eidetic memory first and then repeated what she’d said. No sooner did he finish the last syllable than the sharp blast of electricity surge through him and he was thrown _through_ his window and out onto his balcony. Rae Rae shouted and ran after him. He sat up, struggling to blink away his confusion and pain, and then glanced through the wrought iron railing and to the crowd of gawking tourists below. Some had pulled out their phones to snap pictures of him, while others were pointing. A few children squeezed their parents’ hands harder and screamed.

He flared up his wings and wrapped them around his shoulders, trying to cocoon himself off from the scrutiny, even as he pulled his lips back in a snarl.

Azrael was there, her eyes far too shiny, as she helped him to his feet. His focus was mostly on the assembling crowd, on their laughter, excitement, and pointing (did the host do the same?), but he was aware enough to know his little sister had had the presence of mind to put her wings away.

“Well, ouch,” she said. “I guess that stunt for the show isn’t going to work like at all, Lucifer. My bad. Let’s just go back and side and brainstorm new ideas.” She shoved him behind her, and her remembered then that, despite her size and quirky demeanor, she was still the Angel of Death and quite the fierce warrior in her own right. “Whelp, sorry about that. I guess a free preview is fun, uh, even if that show won’t be in the show later. Good afternoon, New Orleans.”

She yanked him by the hand up the stairs and didn’t stop dragging him till she’d helped him to his mattress. He blinked up at her. “How did you…”

“Invisibility, dude. I’ve checked out the parade a few times. I know your schtick. Smart. The crowd will think dress rehearsal went super wrong. No one saw the infernal, no sirree, Bob.”

He sighed and rubbed at his sides. The sizzle of electricity and raw power was still snaking through him. “Did I just get smited?”

“I think it’s like you were smitten? I dunno, English is confusing. Anyhoo, yeah. That’s why Lilim can’t speak Enochian. It’s a blowback effect.” She frowned. “I mean, okay, so you’re Fallen, but I’ve met a few other Fallen at the gates before, and they can totally speak Enochian. Ugh, freaking Belial never shuts up and thinks I care what he has to jabber on about. Like I actually give a crap if he speaks Enochian. Um, dude, you’re so bad you got thrown out of Hell’s main gate on top of everything, Belial. Just no.”

Lucifer nodded and even with the pain of, essentially, lightening lancing through him, he felt cold. Bereft. “I’ve never had that reaction to the language before. I’ve rarely used it since…well we both know when, but I have when needed.”

His sister sat beside him on the bed and bumped his shoulder playfully with her own. He appreciated the effort, but not much could make him feel good right now, even her pluckiness. “Is there something more than Fallen?”

“I have no idea. Not as if Father speaks to me. As far as I’ve gathered, he speaks to no one. Not for decades, not since his orders to Amendiel, ironically enough.”

His sister nodded. “I…okay, so don’t freak out, but I guess you’re not angel enough anymore for the incantation to work or, more accurately, you’re too demon-y to deal with it. I mean Death can say it, and she’s not a celestial or an infernal. I just think the whole Enochian-plus-hellspawn thing backfires? So, uh, huh…”

He took in a ragged breath and vowed to himself to deal with that problem later, not that he hadn’t known. Of course, he had. He could feel the lack of divinity in him, the darkness and the rage swirling just beneath his breastbone. Lucifer had understood all of this without truly acknowledging it since the parody of wings he now had burst from his back ten years ago.

“I need to make this work. Someone has to say it, Azrael.”  


“I can’t be on-call, Lu. I just can’t. Humans die, and you know the souls…they start to rot if they don’t get ferried where they need to be. I have to do my job. Only something eternal, celestial or with some divinity in them can use that incantation. So, if you and Lilim and humans are all that are here---”

“But Beatrice is partially divine…or at least a by-product of it. Father’s machinations created her so she’d have more of his spark than a human would. Clearly, it’s what’s driving the vampires around here mad already.”

His sister tilted her head at him and frowned. “Actually, technically, as a miracle that’s pretty true. She could learn the incantation, I’d be happy to teach it to her, and then poof! You’ve got invisible bodyguards.”

“Do not call it ‘easy peasy.’ Today has been far from that.”

“Fine, but…uh, I think I rebounded pretty well. I got you covered, you know. Lu, I can…I could be here sometimes, the way I check in on Ella.”

He sighed and set his head in his hands. “Perhaps one day, Azrael, but not now. I can’t…I suspected, but now I know that what’s left of my own divinity is gone. It hurts to look upon yours, and perhaps that is petty and childish, but it aches even now, and…”

She hugged him tightly. “Most of the other angels besides Amenadiel suck. You know that, right?”

  


“Now you believe me.”

Rae Rae laughed beside him. “You protected me, made me feel like I fit in somewhere in the Silver City even when so many ganged up on me. You had my back, you know? It’s okay. I have yours, and when you’re ready to…Lu, whatever you are now, you’re still my brother. I’ve been a crappy sister---”

“I haven’t been a stellar sibling either.”

“But I do love you, and I’d never, ever make fun of you or think less of you. Okay?”

He nodded and bit back the bile in his throat. “I appreciate that. You sent me Miss Lopez, and she was not a small portion of the best years of my life. You’re here now to help me protect the urchin. I wish I had anything to give you in return, but I have nothing left of value to proffer.”

She offered him a watery smile. “You don’t need to do me a favor. You spent millennia keeping Michael off my butt. We’re good. I just hope that in time seeing me or any friendly Celestial will be okay for you. Don’t shut me or Amenadiel out forever, okay? We love you.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I know, and I do too, truly. I just want things to be less bloody complicated.”

“Yes, please remind me when being an angel was uncomplicated and carefree?”

He shrugged. “Fair point,” and then he let her go. “Now, help me get this place straightened up a bit. I assume there are at least tarps in the basement that I can use until I can find a contractor to fix the gaping chasm in my wall.”

“Of course, Lu, what are little sisters for?”

**

Beatrice was eying him. She was studying him with a look he both recognized and had always hated, even before he’d been apparently stripped free of anything divine at all. The Detective had looked at him like that whenever she wasn’t buying his “metaphors” (never metaphors, not at all) and was about to call him on his crap.

“So, uh, campout, huh?”

His wings pulled in tighter to his back on their own accord. “In a manner of speaking. Since there is a bit of a chill seeping in.”

“It’s fifty outside and you have no freaking window.”  


“Well, then I feel lighting up the fireplace and pretending it’s a campout down here was justified.”

“You also got those telescoping marshmallow roasting stick and everything for s’mores.”

“That would be the highlight of the campout,”

“It’s totally _not_ the remake of _Conan_. Yeesh, I mean, I’m all for Jason Mamoa, but I’m super not feeling Rose McGowan overacting. Why was this even a thing?”

“You have no taste, child.”

She scrunched her nose up and burrowed into his side. “I need body heat, Satan, so don’t even do that ‘I’m so tragic, let me move away and spare you the touch of me’ bullshit. You’re like a furnace, and I need that.”

“Duly noted,” he said.

Whilst her words were unfailingly blunt, her tone made him happier than he’d been since his sister had finished practicing with Maze, Taka, and Beatrice and assured him that the miracle had the incantation mastered. That was a relief, to know her guards could be with her at all times. This was even better, that even keel he needed. He would never understand Beatrice’s accepting nature, and he didn’t want to question it. The best he could figure was that growing up with Mazikeen as her babysitter had permanently warped Beatrice’s sense of normalcy. And clearly dulled her fear response. Any other human---even a miraculous one---would be running away from him. Her she was using him for extra warmth like he was nothing more extraordinary than a space heater.

It both irked him that his preternatural nature counted for so little in her eyes and made him feel normal.

And for both things, he was oddly grateful.

She watched her marshmallow catch on fire and was a bit too nonchalant about blowing it out. He glared at her, feeling the heat in his gaze and assuming his eyes were blazing themselves by now.

“I do not exist merely to be your heating pad, urchin.”

“I don’t exist to shiver cause it’s chilly even in the Big Easy,” she countered. And now the marshmallow was flaming like a torch.

“Seriously, try not to let that get out of control. Why ever would you want a charcoal briquet in the middle of your s’more anyway, child?”

“It tastes better. Besides, what do you care? You can’t catch on fire anyway.” She blinked back at him. “Wait, I didn’t actually know if you can. I assumed cause in like _Legend_ and…”

He rolled his eyes theatrically and with some effort, leaned forward and set his hand in the fire. Lucifer gave it a few minutes, and brought it back out. The mangled flesh there was no more burned or tarnished than it had been before he set it into the flames. Presenting it to her, he let her reach out and touch its surface.

“Wouldn’t do much good to live in a land of mostly ash but, to be fair, still a rather large lake of fire if I weren’t basically walking asbestos. So, no, urchin, I can’t burn.” Well, not _anymore_. “However, this building is over three hundred years old and original would beams. It would go up like a tinder box. Please try not to burn it down.”

“Cool,” she chirped, pulling her fingertips away and tending to her own s’more.

Lucifer, for his part, had opted to mainline the chocolate. As he watched Beatrice struggle with the burned mass that had once been a marshmallow and her graham crackers, he shuddered. “It’s going to taste awful.”

“The char makes it,” she insisted, before taking an oozing bite of her so-called masterpiece. “So,” she said, talking around a full mouth. “Your sister seemed nice.”

“Azrael and I have had a long history together, but she’s my favorite little sister. Honestly, she’s my favorite sibling.”

“Will we see her more?”

He sighed and shoved another bit of chocolate in his mouth. “Perhaps, not for now. I…she knew about me, about all that’s changed since we last ran across each other in Los Angeles. I didn’t know that she did, that all my siblings do.”

“Wait, so you can like look down on people from heaven? Crap, would like Grandpa Decker be able to see me, uh, going out to bars and stuff with my fake i.d.?”

“No, the host can glimpse here if they so choose. I assumed most didn’t bother. The angels are usually very obsessed with their perfect, gleaming city. Apparently, my life is quite the diversion.” He grabbed a handful of marshmallows and talked around them, “So glad to know it’s bringing someone smiles.”

“Well, Azrael was really nice, and she helped us out. You should invite her over more. Ooh, maybe for Mardi Gras. She could probably make it a two-for. I’m sure there will be drunk tourists who do stupid and, uh, fatal stuff during the parade to make the trip worth her while. You know, like Celestial multitasking.”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s non-committal,” she replied, setting out to create another flaming marshmallow. She’d already shoved another bit of white goo on the end of her stick, and he could just tell from the gleam in her eye that Beatrice was going to torch this one too. “Think about it for me.”

“You have more leverage over the Devil than you should.”

“Oh, I know. But we’re trading. If I have to be your cricket, then you can at least consider being social when I suggest it.”

“I’m very sociable.”  


She snorted and then grinned as her marshmallow went up in flames. “You keep telling yourself that. I just…it could be super fun. Even Maze likes her.”

“She does not.”

“She didn’t make but so many snarky comments or threaten her once with blades. You know that’s Maze-speak for ‘I like you enough to have you around.’”

He considered that and ate another hunk of chocolate. “Honestly, a good assessment there, urchin. Then, yes, I’ll at least consider inviting Azrael then. I’m just relieved that the incantation works. You won’t be without protection ever at this rate.”

“I can’t be followed forever.”

“Why ever not? The Lilim are immortal.”

“Seriously?” she said, blowing out the flames and grimacing at the burned mess that had once been her marshmallow. She winced. “Maybe I had this one in too long.”

Lucifer chuckled and grabbed an unblemished marshmallow. “I lived eons in Hell, and I wouldn’t eat anything _that burnt_.” A fresh marshmallow was launched at his face and he picked it out of the air easily. “I have better reflexes, spawn.”

She flopped back onto the couch and burrowed up next to him. “It’s not really fair, you know.”

“What isn’t?”

“Being a miracle sucks. It only means that my best friend can actually die---”

“A temporary setback, assuredly.”

“Can only _die_ when I’m around, and that crazy creatures want my blood. It doesn’t net me crap. I mean, I don’t get like superspeed or telekinesis or whatever. Such a rip-off.” She frowned. “Why does your Dad make us anyway?”

Lucifer sighed and shook his head. “That’s the million-dollar question. I thought when I first found out it was to manipulate me to follow his plans. For a few precious moments, well, there were times…” he continued, coughing and trying very hard not to think of the Detective and things that would never be. “where I thought perhaps your mother was an olive branch. Honestly, I have no idea why she or you exist. I had no clue there had been others.” He shrugged. “I was only half-kidding about Dad’s love for sacrificial lambs. If anything, he’s fond of blood magic, himself. Gets a rap for that. I wish that your nature made your more than a walking target. Believe me I do.”

“I know,” she said, her voice quieter than before and her ruined marshmallow forgotten on the hearth. “I just would like some fringe benefits.”

He wanted to admonish here about being careful what she wished for. Once, he’d wished for his angel wings to go away. He should have been a right bit more specific on what else he wanted in their place. Father had a sense of humor after all. Who knew? But Beatrice was stubborn, and it would just make her groan to hear him warn her on that point.

“We’ll make more inroads into the community. I’ve a meeting lined up with John Constantine tomorrow night. Ezzekeen brokered the deal between us this afternoon. I’m optimistic that he’ll be able to offer me more insight into miracles. I honestly just didn’t know. Before 2011, I wasn’t able to come to earth for very long, and I was preoccupied with when Amenadiel would show up and spoil my fun more than with anything else.”

“You mean, your brother was the orgy police.”

Lucifer smirked. “Yes, he’s always been quite gifted at ruining fun.”

“Can I come? It’s about me, and bonus! I don’t even have classes.”

“No, urchin.”

“Is this because the last time you met, he didn’t try to kill you and that was the ‘good sign?’” She used air quotes for that last part, and he resented her sarcasm. Teenagers.

“I said our relationship seemed to be stable enough.”

She angled her body to glare at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not what I want to hear. Can he hurt you?”

“He can try, but, truly, last time we came to accords. It should be fine. You stay here with Maze and Taka. That’s part of the arrangement. He won’t bring back up but neither will I. It’s an even meeting of the minds. That is all.”

She frowned. “Okay, but if it’s, like, a trap…”  


“I’m the former King of Hell. I have this under control.”

Beatrice snorted. “Right, sure, you’re very competent.”

“You don’t rule anywhere for eons even with a Celestial advantage because you’re stupid, spawn.”

“No, but you’re too noble for your own good. At least if I can’t go, take Maze, okay? Ooh, we can do the invisibility spell, and he’ll never even know!”

“Oh John-O will definitely know. Besides, I gave my word I would come alone and---”

“You never break your word, gotcha.” She shook her head. “At least bring a few weapons or something in case.”

His smirk broadened, although he wasn’t sure the expression was displaying as more sarcastic or feral. On his own face, who could rightly tell any longer? Spreading his fingers wide, he let her get a glimpse of his claws and regarded her. “Oh, urchin, I _am_ the weapon, should things spiral.”

“Good, cause with us, Luci, it always does.”

**

“I don’t like this.” Mazikeen hissed from across his bar.

Well, what was left of it on his floor. Between the gaping hole where his window had been and his smashed bar, he really needed to get some contractors in as soon as things calmed down.

“I’m not thrilled with the arrangement either, Maze, but this was what he’d agree to. I’m to meet him at midnight at Market Street power plant. I’ve offered to give him advice on how to avoid damnation---can’t get it better than straight from the source---and one infernal artifact of his choosing.” He held out his hand, palm flat. “Please lend me one of your demon blades.”

“He doesn’t get to have that! I didn’t promise it, and you had no right in my place.”

“Mazikeen, I’d never do that to you. However, to fulfill my end of the bargain, I will need it. But your blade and I---ta ever so for the concern for my safety, by the way---will be back by two a.m. No worries.”

She shook her head. “The Hellblazer was pissed at all of us last time.”

“We gave him what he wanted.”

Maze narrowed her eyes at him but passed him one of her blades. “It’s literally _impossible_ to give him what he wanted. We gave him what we could. That’s not the same.”

“And I have a miracle and no idea what to do with her or how to protect her long term.”

“I can kill anything that gets close to her now until she’s ninety. Sounds like a good plan to me.”

“True, but the urchin may want some space eventually. It might be a bit awkward to date with a demoness or two trailing after her.” He sighed and ran a finger over the blade’s hilt. “Besides, even Beatrice noticed this---bodyguards are _defense_. We need to go on the offensive if we are to keep her safe, and that means actually understanding some of the dangers and power structures in New Orleans, whom to even approach. Constantine knows this. We don’t.”

“It’s dumb, Lucifer. You keep your word. Humans tend not to. It reeks of a set up.”

“I’m terribly hard to kill and, of course, I’ll just pop back up in a jiff even if he could harm me.” He signed and drummed his claws on what was left of the granite. “Have you a better idea?”

“Did you not just hear the Taka and I never leave Trixie for 90 years plan? Seems good to me.”

“You know that won’t work. Besides, she has questions about what she is and what that means. I have fuck all idea, myself, outside of how miracles affect me. She deserves more than that, and Constantine might know too.”

“Don’t let her blind you.”  


“Excuse me?”

“I love the not-so-little-human as much as Charlie. She’s family, but don’t make stupid, totally Lucifer decisions because of her. Decker was poisoned, and we had to paddle-thing you at the hospital. You almost did get stuck in a loop and would have without your bitch mom.”

“Tread carefully, Mazikeen.”

“The Goddess is such a bitch, and you know it.”

“She was difficult.”

“Your whole family is a living nightmare.”

He laughed but there was no humor in it. “I’m well aware. But for the Detective…for _both_ of them, even now, I’d move heaven and earth.”  


“Or go to Hell, gotcha, but you have to think smarter than that. Just because you can sacrifice yourself short term, doesn’t mean it’s good for Trixie long term. So, you know, just think outside of your protective Dad-brain.”

“How dare you!”

“Not your Dad, but like, I dunno, a step-devil kind of brain. I had to learn that with Charlie too. Sometimes, it’s better to do what protects a kid long term. Trixie might want answers, but if the only way to get them is to go to an abandoned power plant alone at night with a rogue warlock…maybe that’s not the smartest idea.”

“Who’s the Devil and who is the demon here?”

“I know, and I don’t technically work for you except when I want to. I’m just saying, Lucifer, don’t be an idiot.”

He sighed and grasped the demon steel in his hand. It was warm to the touch. Maze’s blades always were, a by product of the hell fire that had forged them. “It’s kind of my jam, Maze. Now, look after her tonight, will you?”

“Every night, all the time, but just think it through.”

“I have, and I’ve run every trap. This is what has to happen. Like I said, I’ll be back by two a.m., no harm and no foul.”

Maze snorted and stomped back to the steps. “Keep telling yourself that.”

**

There were few times over the last decade that Lucifer was glad he could no longer wear suits. After all, he’d always found them fetching and enjoyed the fit of something tailored to his once slim physique. However, as he landed in the dusty expanse of the abandoned power plant and surveyed the rat droppings and the scattered hypodermic needles and metal trash littered everywhere, he knew that Prada would have been ruined in such an environment. As it was, his trousers would most likely be forfeit.

Everything was rusted, the metal of the catwalks overhead appeared as if it would snap at any moment, and what was left of the machinery inside, aged and collapsing in on itself. Honestly, it was a perfect place for old John-O, who appeared as disheveled as ever with his stained trench coat, loose and spotted tie, and hair that hadn’t seen a comb in most likely ever. Lucifer did, however, agree with the cigarette dangling from the man’s lips. He’d like a smoke himself.

He had stopped the habit years ago, if only because he no longer could even pretend to feel the burn from them, got no real pleasure from the habit any longer, but he missed it.

“So,” he said, tucking his wings behind him as he landed. “you did show.”

“I made the arrangements, Satan. Be a right wanker if I didn’t appear.”

“You said it, not I,” Lucifer replied, frowning as the other man finished with the sketching in blood---from the scent, probably pig’s---on the floor. “What is that?”

He vaguely recognized some Enochian sigils, but the others were a mix of languages and runes he had no hope of deciphering and layered in between the edges of a shape that reminded him of a star of David.

John-O finished the last stroke of blood and a bright, crimson light shone for an instant and then went out. “It’s sealed now. Get inside, and I’ll take the artifact first, and then feel comfortable chatting it out with you. Mano-a-not-so-mano.”

“What is it?” he asked again.

“A Devil’s Trap. This will hold you until we finish our little parlay.”

“I didn’t agree to that. It wasn’t mentioned to Ezzekeen in negotiations.”

Constantine took out his cigarette and stomped it dead. “Tough. Either you ensure my own safety, or I walk. Then, where will you get your hotline to the supernatural from?”

He could hear the derision in the exorcist’s voice. As if he hadn’t had a boatload of other matters to deal with in his life, too much to concern himself with magic and everything in between. Maze would kill him for agreeing to this, but it was for the urchin, and he’d be damned---somehow moreso than he already was---if he’d let a leech or anything else detain her and drain her dry like Esmée had attempted. He owed her better than that.

The Detective too.

Grumbling to himself, he stepped into the circle and blinked back the assault on his eyes as a light almost as bright as any in the Silver City flared before him. Curiously, he snuck toward the edge of the trap and groaned when a shock burned into the flat of his palm when he tried to reach past the border.

“Not the sharpest hellbeast, are we? I told you it was a trap, Lucifer.”

He eyed Constantine but thought better at the last minute of flaring his wings. He’d been fried enough the last couple days without doing it all over again on the sigils. “I’m not just any low-level demon or even one of the Fallen I’ve exiled. You’d do well to remember that, John-O.”

Constantine shook his head and reached in his trench coat pocket for another cigarette, which he lit and sucked into in short order. “If you were any type of king, you’d have had control over your minions.”

Lucifer inhaled sharply before speaking again. “Those things will kill you, you know. Way I hear it, you don’t exactly want to speed up the time you have left before you shuffle off that mortal coil.”

“And talk’s cheap, Satan. I want my item, then we’ll chat, yeah? After that, you tell me whatever juicy tidbit you’ve dangled over me like a scrap, and we’ll part ways. Just like I outlined.”

“Good enough for me,” Lucifer replied, pulling out Maze’s knife. “You wanted an item that would be of great power for casting. Would one of the spikes off my back work or had you something else in mind?”

“Maybe your heart. Would be fair, balance the scales and all that.”

Lucifer’s eyes flared; he could feel the heat in them. “I wasn’t responsible for Corrigan. I wasn’t even aware of what happened.”

“Whatever happened to ‘the buck stops here?’ Isn’t that why ‘heavy is the head that wears the crown?’ Dromos was your demon, and you let him run wild through New Orleans. He slaughtered my friend---”

“And I saw to his destruction personally. Tore every inch of his viscera out and had hung him on a pike down in Hell as an example to all other demons. It was the only time I’ve been back to Hell since…” he paused there. What he’d done for the Detective was certainly not the Hellblazer’s business. “We gave you his underling Squee. After that, only Lilim have come here, and none have so much as touched a hair on a human head.” He paused and smirked. “Well, not unless asked to while in bed, of course.”

“Not a pleasure I assume you’d know about of late, if rumors are true.”

Lucifer flared out his wings as fully as he could and let out a low rumble from his chest. “That bit of tit-for-tat was not part of our deal.”

“Unless you’re shagging the Lilim, mate. Although, it _is_ New Orleans, one of the tourists too into all the fake hocus pocus might be that adventurous…if you got them soused enough, mate.”

He forced his anger away; his vision was already swimming red. “The Lilim serve me, nothing more. Once Mazikeen and I…but that arrangement was several lifetimes ago, or at least it feels like it. We’re here to talk about the magical community, miracles, and what you know of them. Right now, if you want my spike, help me bloody well cut it off. If not, then name your price, John-O.”

“That’ll do. Figure it’ll come in handy to keep back with the rest of Jasper’s stash.” He stomped out his second cigarette and stalked to the edge of the Devil’s trap. “You get out of line, Lucifer, and I leave. Until some poor sod wanders by and smudges the blood, you won’t go anywhere. You hear me.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with. I don’t know which other demons you’ve run with, and I don’t give a rat’s arse, to be honest. I keep my word. It’s _what_ I do. So you’ve nothing to fear from me.”

Constantine shook his head. “The sodding problem with demons isn’t that they don’t keep their word; it’s making sure everything’s worded correctly. You lot and your bloody loopholes.”

“I have my needs and no interest in betraying you.” He swallowed hard and forced Maze’s warnings from his mind. Even if Constantine just stabbed him anyway in retaliation for Corrigan, he’d be out a few hours before he could return again from Hell. It was an inconvenience at worst. Turning around, he handed off the blade and waited for Constantine to harvest the spine of his choice. “Chop-chop, John-O, I haven’t got all night.”

There was no pain when Constantine sawed through the spike, just the unsettling noise of the scrape of steel on bone and a pressure against the middle of his back. It was soon enough done, and Constantine strode back out of the circle with his prize.

“You’ll look right funny missing one.”

Lucifer sighed, a gesture that was more foolish than he’d assumed. It kicked up rat droppings in the air, and the noxious rebound smell made even the Devil gag. “They grow back. Believe me, tried that early on.”

“Fascinating. Now, what is it you want to know about miracles? A little bit of water into wine? Maybe something about parting the Red Sea?”

“No, nothing like that.” Lucifer crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you know about human-miracles? People who wouldn’t exist except for divine intervention?”

Constantine whistled. “Rare as hen’s teeth, maybe a few a century, maybe less. Have a psychic friend, celestially touched and that jump started her visions. But a whole person who wouldn’t exist except for your Dad’s bullshit…that doesn’t happen much.”

“But it has, and it does, of course.”

Constantine nodded. “You know one, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I thought she was one of a kind. Honestly, she’s only half-a-miracle since her mother was the one who came to be due to divine intervention. Nothing exceptional about how Beatrice ended up here afterwards, except I refuse to believe it’s a normal practice in this universe for someone as extraordinary as the Detective to fall for such a douche.”

“Sweet on the mum, huh?”

“I was.” Okay, so maybe he still…no, the dreams were few and far between now. Even if hearing the Detective’s voice had jump-started longing he’d buried or, well, hoped he had, it meant nothing. She’d made that quite clear the last time they’d spoken. If a shouting match that loud could be qualified as “speaking.” “It’s no matter. I’ve half-a-miracle who was tasted by the vampire community here and is now being hunted. I want to know more about what to expect.”

“They drank from her?”

“Just the one,” Lucifer ground out. “He was dealt with.”

“But not before he let the miracle out of the sodding bag, I’d wager. Oh Lucifer, what have you done?”

“I need to protect her.”

“If vamps know, it’s bad enough, but rumors spread like wildfire here. The witches and Papa Midnite will know soon too, and they’ll come.”

“Well, I wasn’t one of my Father’s strongest archangels for no reason, and I didn’t climb my way to the top of Hell by being nice. Let them come. I’ll slaughter them.”

“You would think that. Demon logic: might makes right and a load of bollocks. There are what? Maybe ten of you holed up in that ridiculous bar of yours.”

“Close,” he hedged. “So?”

“If the entire supernatural world wants her…and soon enough they will, even nine or so Lilim and Satan won’t be enough. Don’t you think the Fallen you exiled might want a taste of her?”

“It’s not my fault you’ve a quarrel with Belial, Beelzebub, and Sandaphalon. They’ve been locked out of Hell for six thousand years. They’ve no other place to go but to wander the wasteland around the gates.”

“And slip to earth to steal souls.”

“I don’t want souls, and I run the punishment side of things…well, I did. So, do not confuse me and the job forced upon me with the three Fallen who have tricked you.”

“I don’t at all, Satan, but you’ve got your hands on something insanely valuable, and you don’t even know what you have.”

“She’s nineteen. She’s still basically a child, and she doesn’t…I want them to leave her alone, and I want to know if ‘being a miracle’ means anything for her.”

“More than blood that could catapult the power of any blood magic ritual up an insane level? More than being utter crack to a vamp? That bird of yours, they say when you’re around her, you’re mortal just like the rest of us poor sods. That right too?”

Lucifer paced, taking small steps back and forth across the claustrophobic confines of his trap. “That’s all true, about what she can do. I figured that was why dear old Dad created her mother in the first place. A weakness just for me. Beatrice inherited that side-effect, yes.”

Constantine shoved his hands in his trench coat pockets. “You know there aren’t second-generation miracles running around, don’t you?”

“I didn’t know until a couple days ago there’d ever been miracles besides her and her mother so no, I’d say not.”

“She’s the first then. Miracles…so rare but clearly a delicacy for the big bads out there…they’re hunted down when they’re found. Consumed. But the blessing that creates them potentiates in the blood, you know. Your girl isn’t a half-a-miracle, no such bloody thing. It’s as barmy as being half-pregnant. She’s both a miracle _and_ more potent than her mother. It’s exponential. If she ever lived long enough and got lucky, well, the power in any child she’d have…it would ratchet right up there.”

He rounded in his trap again, almost going dizzy with the tight pacing. “Lovely, fun fact. What can you tell me to keep her safe, John-O. I need to protect her.”

“Well, fat lot of good you’re going to be able to do with everything from every pantheon wanting a Scooby snack with that one or an extra ingredient for their spells. Best thing you can do with that one is run,” Constantine replied.

“I’m---”

“Yes, the Devil, but there’s a lot out there meaner than you, that is willing to be cruel where you’ve been tamed. They won’t hesitate with her. Can you say the same with you against them?”

He grasped his hands tightly into fists at his sides, and again his claws dug painfully into his own skin. “Is there anything useful you can tell me?”

“About all I’ve got. Can’t say I have anything left to offer. Never met a miracle in person, myself, just heard the whispers. But the voodoo community, especially, when they find out…Papa Midnite will want her personally. Crazy sod killed his own sister and uses her shrunken head as a conduit to hell and precognition. What do you think he’d do to her.”

“What else can you tell me about this Papa Midnite?”

“Nothing good. Tangled with him more than I’d like and blighter’s relentless and dangerous as anything. Honestly, what you’ve got, Lucifer, is a full-time bloody job as her keeper. Good thing you’ve got quite the empty dance card, am I right?”

“Fine,” he ground out, having no interest in rising to the bait. “Then, I can finish my end of the bargain, and we can be out of each others’---”

“Hair?” Constantine asked.

“I was going to say ‘sights,’ you wanker. You want to know about souls and Hell and escaping it? I don’t know what deals you struck or how you pissed off the Triumvirate so badly, but I’ve no dominion over exiles. It’s not my affair. However, actual Hell, the loops I used to oversee,” And, realistically one day might return to ruling. He wasn’t sure Dad would ever let him off the hook completely. With Lucifer’s luck his father was _still_ playing the long game. “It’s quite simple: it’s all about guilt. If you die full of it, even if the sins are slight, then down you pop. If you want to avoid an eternity of misery in ash and darkness, then you need to forgive yourself, John-O. See, that’s the bloody irony in all my Father’s designs. _You’re your own warden._ You might be even more buggered than you thought before, if you can’t learn to forgive your past. So that’s the secret---you hold the key, and, from what I’ve seen here tonight, you’re going to lock yourself up nice and proper when you die. Now, let me out.”

Constantine shook his head and started to chant. “Not in the mood to do that, mate. I’ve seen how you operate. The Lilim seem controlled for now, but Dromos didn’t go on a killing spree for at least a year in New Orleans. When he broke bad, well, then he murdered a dozen humans under your bloody nose and gutted my friend like it was nothing. You might not have done it, but your ignorance did worse than if you’d tried yourself.” He started to chant then, and agony bit into Lucifer’s limbs as he stumbled to his knees.

Constantine’s chant rose, and an unnatural puce light pulsated before him. Pain rippled through him again, and he tried to follow the Sanskrit old John-O was throwing out, but he couldn’t focus hard enough. Not like this.

“What are you bloody well doing? You can’t exorcise me. I’m not some low-level underling.” The light grew so bright that it hurt to glimpse it, and Lucifer slammed his eyes shut. “This is a useless attempt.”

Constantine stopped chanting long enough to explain. “I researched the ritual the minute your emissary reached out to me. This won’t last permanently, but it’ll shove you aside for a decade, back to the Hell we both hate so much. After all, I’m _not_ always a man of my word.”

He started chanting again and Lucifer fell to all fours and vomited off to the side. The light was bright enough to be perceived behind his eyelids as after flashes, and he could hear it as the floor not too far from him crumbled open. Ash and fire wavered up from the sinkhole unfurling close to him. Forcing his eyes open, Lucifer watched in horror as the ground opened wider, like a gaping maw trying to close around him. He inched to the edge of the Devil’s trap.

  
“You can’t,” Lucifer croaked

“My friend’s dead because of your damn negligence. I can do anything I’d like, mate.” Constantine held his hands up wide and the floor around Lucifer kept collapsing. He shouted the next lines of the Sanskrit, and the earth trembled beneath them both. “See you in a decade, Lucifer, and I’ll be back to send you packing again.”

“I can’t..._she_ needs me.”

“Technically,” a familiar voice rang out as Beatrice darted out from behind some of the heavy machinery and quickly brought the dragon-hilted knife to Constantine’s throat. “She doesn’t.” She pressed the blade tightly to Constantine’s skin until blood welled, but the warlock still chanted. “If you finish the exorcism, you won’t like my reaction to that. Stop now, and we go back to _Tenebrae_ and talk. You try and send my friend back to Hell, and you should know I have experience neutering small animals when I worked for a vet.”

Constantine hesitated and tried to twist his hand around, to blast her with magic, but Beatrice held her ground.

“I said stop. Don’t do this, please.”

The chanting finally stopped, and Lucifer coughed when he could breathe normally again. “For fuck’s sake, Hellblazer, what are you even on about? You’ve gone round the friggin’ pipe or what?”

“I’ve always been a bit mental,” Constantine said. “Doesn’t excuse the fact that you’ve always left carnage in your wake, Lucifer, whether you mean to or not.” He eyed Beatrice who still held her blade tightly to him. “And you must be the miracle.”

“Yeah, I’m a miracle alright; now let’s get him home.”

**

She was hovering around him. It would be kind of cute if he weren’t exhausted, pissed off, and desperately wanted to claw the smirk from Constantine’s face as he helped himself to a tumbler of his best Scotch. Having Beatrice fuss over the stump where one of his spikes had been (would that he could get rid of and keep them _all_ off permanently). It was the equivalent of having a kitten worried about a lion, but it was sweet.

“You’re hurt!”

“I made a trade, and John-O and I agreed on that readily enough.”

Constantine raised his glass from across the expanse of the living room. “Ta ever so, mate.”

He growled, and if it were any other human than the insufferable one before him, he’d have wet himself. Of this much, Lucifer was certain. Unfortunately, Constantine had dealt with rather nasty demons and Fallen before, and it just made the insufferable bastard laugh.

“You’re upset I got a jump on you. Not being able to break a deal or lie is a weakness.”

“I’m a devil of my word, always have been.” No matter what it had cost him.

Beatrice left his side on the sofa and stalked across the expanse of the flat. She reached up and slapped Constantine hard in the cheek. The resounding smack was satisfying to hear. “You tried to send him back to Hell.”

“I’m sure I’m far from the first, luv.”

“He needed help, and you were going to banish him,” she spat.

“It wouldn’t have lasted more than a decade. Not even a drop in the bucket for the likes of him.”

Lucifer stood and dragged his sore body---bloody, fucking magic---to the remains of his bar and grabbed for some whiskey. He didn’t even bother to pour it into a glass, just drained half the bottle in on gulp before speaking. “I don’t know. The last ten years have dragged on at a glacial pace.” It would have been imminently worse trapped in Hell this time, unable to get out till the time passed, all the while knowing that without him and even with Maze at her side, the inevitable would find Beatrice first and drain her dry. “Give me a reason not to tear you apart, John-O.”

“Because you know I had to try to get one back for Corrigan. He was a good man---”

“And I am sorry and always will be for Dromos’s actions. He betrayed me too. I only wish I could offer you a chance to tear him apart as well. Trust at least that he was made quite the example of, and he screamed long and loud before he died.” Lucifer took another sip of his whiskey. “You crossed the Devil, Hellblazer, not smart. So, what’s to keep me from investing in making your life miserable now?”

“The fact that three other Fallen have beat you to it comes to mind,” Constantine replied.

“Oh, believe me, if you had banished me and something had befallen the urchin, no plane in existence would have protected you from my wrath,” he replied, eyes blazing.

“Fair enough, red, tall, and ugly.”

Beatrice pulled her arm back. “I’ll slap you again.”

Constantine sipped his drink. “I like this one. She’s got spirit. Dumb as a box of hair to interrupt a warlock in mid-spell, but she’d definitely got spunk.” He eyed her directly. “I can run a bit of a diagnostic. Can’t tell you as much as you’d like, but I can get a feel for your miracle here, maybe a hint of what she’ll be able to do some day.”

“If you mean mute Luci’s powers and apparently taste like the best prime rib ever, totally got that memo,” Beatrice replied. Her words were flippant, but her tone wavered. “Otherwise, I’m pretty boring.”

Lucifer set the now empty handle he’d chugged down and eyed Constantine. “Would whatever hocus pocus you have up your sleeve with her hurt?”

“It’s a quick spell, a few words of Latin here, a bit of glowy light there, and Bob’s your uncle. It won’t feel like anything.”

“Urchin?”

She swallowed hard but nodded. “I’d like to. I need to know, please.”

Constantine drained his glass and held up his hands, palms flat, on either side of Beatrice’s temples. He chanted a few, brisk lines in Latin and a warm, golden glow spread between his hands. Beatrice shuddered, and Lucifer almost stopped this test then, but when she opened her eyes, they were a bright gold and she shook her head just a bit back at the Devil.

“Luci, don’t. It just tickles.”

Constantine finished within the minute and the light faded. “And we’re done. You, kiddo, are fascinating.”

“How so?” she asked, leaning forward.

He looked between Lucifer and her and smirked. “No wonder this one landed in your lap. Does her mum do anything?”

“No, not that I know of,” Beatrice admitted.

“I never saw her do anything odd---her mum I mean---in Los Angeles, no,” Lucifer added.

“She can, though. Miracles are like muses in a way. Their active abilities come from their talents and passions. They draw their energy from it. I suppose if one quit what they loved, then they might not ever access their ability. Honestly, the ones I’ve heard of didn’t live very long once they did.”

Lucifer watched as Beatrice’s shoulders hunched and she seemed to weave on her feet. He was by her side in an instant, one long arm wrapped around her shoulders and keeping her upright. “Well, whatever the Detective’s talent was…it didn’t happen. They never figured it out…I worked with her for almost two years, and I had to be _told _about her. She’s safe as houses.”

“I…I guess.” Beatrice frowned at Constantine. “So, miracles don’t live long?”

“They’re hunted…_you’re_ hunted and valuable. I’ve never heard of a second-generation miracle, luv.”

“Great.” And her voice was so quiet that even Lucifer could barely hear it. “I…so what do I do? I mean like how do I know when I find my thing?”

“Your active ability?” Constantine smirked, and Lucifer wanted to wipe the smug expression from his face. Annoying git. “It’ll emerge from whatever passion you’re following, and soon enough, considering your age. What I can read off you? Of course, the Devil would take it upon himself to be the Don Quixote to your Dulcinea, love.”

“Huh?” she asked.

“I’m hardly a hopeless prat tilting at windmills.”

“You’re the one trying to keep her alive so forgive me if the analogy holds, Satan,” Constantine riposted. “_Will_, Lucifer. Surely, that half of the demiurge knows all about that. This one? Extremely gifted with her own will. Whatever she can do, whenever it comes, it’ll start from that. And that’s all I’ve got for you. Now, if you’ll be so kind, miracle, as to excuse us for a mo, your pet devil, and I need to talk.”

“He’s not—”

Lucifer squeezed her shoulder and stepped back. “It’s quite alright, urchin. I want to speak with him too. John-O might have tried revenge mano-a-mano, but he won’t do it on my territory and not with my Lilim two floors below.”

She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. He hated sometimes how much she reminded him of her mother. Every time she did it---especially the eyerolls---it bit into his heart all over again. “Nuh-uh. I get this. I’m _not_ seven anymore, and you don’t get to send me away because it’s more sensitive stuff. Besides, what’s a demiurge?”

“I’ll explain in the morning, spawn. I’ll relay all you need to know. Besides, if I’m meeting with Michael, well, that whole tale fits better there, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m billions of years old. I come with a lot of backstory,” he reminded her. “Beatrice, go upstairs, and I won’t lie to you when we speak. You know I won’t.”

“Will you hurt him?” she demanded, aiming her gaze at Constantine.

“No, luv. He’s got enough coming for him as it is. I merely need to wait for those nasties to find him.”

“Fine, but I swear, I’m not a kid,” she spat. It would have helped her point more if she hadn’t stomped her way up the steps behind the bar out of spite.

When she was gone, Lucifer focused on Constantine and nodded to the top shelf of his bar. “Grab the Macallan, will you? If you’re going to drop a bomb on me, you might as well do it while we both drink something smooth.”

“Rich man’s liquor always burns its way down somehow, has an after taste.”

“Or you’ve burned your taste buds out on rot gut rubbish,” Lucifer replied, grateful when he was handed two tumblers and his top shelf liquor. He poured it out and handed a glass to Constantine. “So, talk, natter on and proclaim, will you?”

“You sought me out,” Constantine reminded. He pointed to the thin line of blood that had welled up on his throat. “That little miracle of yours doesn’t listen well, does she?”

“We’re working on it.”

“I like her, and I mean that. It’s why you’re not going to believe a word I have to say.”

“Try me.”

Constantine sighed. “Truce then. Till the bottom of the glass, and then I’ll be out of here. Don’t like being around the infernal, never have.”

“Makes two of us, if I can be honest.”

“Must be a bitch then, since you’re kind of _the_ infernal thing, mate.”

Lucifer growled a little and sipped his drink. “Ta, Hellblazer, as if I wasn’t bloody aware.”

“I still will always blame you for Corrigan.”

“Me too,” Lucifer whispered. “I am sorry, but you’ll never listen to that.”

“No, I won’t.” Constantine sighed and lit a cigarette. Puffing in, he waited a drag before he spoke again. “If you care about that little miracle of yours, you’ll send her packing back home. You’ll do whatever it takes to keep that bitch Mazikeen tailing her forever, but you’ll send her away from a city teeming with the supernatural like this one. I…I know too what it’s like to disappoint a child.”

“She’s old enough to be pre-med, not exactly still in pigtails.”

“Compared to the beings coming for her, she’s a child,” Constantine replied. “I tried to save a girl once, exorcise her. I had the bloody daft idea to use a bigger, badder demon against another. It’s how I made a deal with the Triumvirate to start with, and all I did was damn Astra to hell and lose her along with my soul. Some of us, mate, everything we touch turns to shit.”

“I see you’re really working on that guilt problem of yours already, John-O,” Lucifer drawled.

“I’m explaining the reality of the situation. Too many things will come for her, especially once whatever divine gift she has manifests. You can’t fight that off, but you might be able to hide her in some nowhere town the way her mother stays alive by skulking about. That’s the best-case scenario. So, Satan, if you don’t want to watch that baby bird of yours suffer and be drained dry, you’ll send her away.”

He sighed and eyed the amber of the liquid in his tumbler. “I actually agree with you, Hellblazer. I’d do anything to keep her safe, even send her to the opposite end of the earth. I’d do it in a bloody heartbeat.”

“Would that I had a second chance to save Astra.” Constantine drained his glass and readjusted his shabby coat on his shoulders. “Do the right thing, Lucifer, spare her from the carnage in your wake. I should have bloody done the same thing with Astra and then, after, warned Corrigan what a sodding curse I am. Would have done right by them, then. You take your shot now before Papa Midnite or worse steal her away.” He turned from the bar and strode toward the main stair well that led all the way down to the bottom floor eventually. “Until later, Prince of Darkness. Try not to get on my bad side.”

Lucifer smirked and, in a blink, had Constantine by the throat. “If you can’t chant, you can’t banish me. I appreciate the info and the diagnostic, John-O,” Lucifer sing-songed. “But if you ever try and exorcise me again, I will take your hands. See if you can spell cast then. Do you understand?”

The warlock was rapidly turning purple before him, but, finally, acquiesced and nodded. When Lucifer released him, the wanker gasped for breath like a fish. It was extremely gratifying. “You’re a right bastard, Lucifer. Anyone ever tell you that?”

He laughed and, even to his ears, it sounded crazed and unsure. “Oh, Hellblazer, don’t you know? I’m so much more than that; I’m the Beast. Now, get out.”

**

“So, you two have fun? Be all British-ish together? Get your weird slang out and talk shit about me behind my back?” She was glaring at him from her position behind pillow fort mountain.

And yeah, she could be as petty as Daniel. It was decidedly not a great look for the urchin. Also, perhaps, a bit terrifying. Maybe, a little, you know for someone who wasn’t also the Devil.

He grumbled as he climbed carefully into his side and angled his back away from her. Then, Lucifer clutched his claws tightly into his palms till blood welled up in them. Better him than her, always better that. “You want to know what he said then?”

She huffed. “Obviously.”

“He said that you should go home to Austin. Forget you ever were a miracle, and never try and figure out what you can do. Only reason your mum’s alive is because she…whatever she was meant to do, she didn’t, and there was no way for other to track her down. You do the same back home in Texas, and all the nasties of the world won’t get a kip of you.”

“Um, normal English.”

“You go home, hide, and nothing finds you and bites you. Of course, for insurance you take Mazikeen. Anything dumb enough to go near you will know exactly what it’s like to have its spine ripped out of its eyeballs before it dies. It’s rather unpleasant, I assure you.”

She ranted a little under her breath on the other side of the wall. “I won’t do it. _That_ sounds like a big, scaredy retreat.”

“It _is_ a retreat, albeit a strategic one. I won’t let you…your death will not be on my hands, urchin, and you’ve come awfully close **twice** in just five weeks.” He drew in a haggard breath. “I have protected you since you were seven, since I took a slug to the gut for you and your mum. There is no way I’m going to let you stay here and get slaughtered when I make a mistake.”

“You wouldn’t let that happen!”

“I would try, but even I can fail. Ask both your parents. When I fuck up, people die, like Charlotte. I won’t…figure out a way to transfer home at the end of the year. You can’t stay here, Beatrice. It’s saner like this.”

She popped up from her end, and her eyes were so large and sincere. “And what about you? Who will---”

“Look after me?” He chuckled genuinely. “Spawn, I’ve been taking care of myself on my own…” _In exile_. “since long before your ancestors mastered fire. I’m quite capable of being on my own.”

“Yeah, you’ve done a super bang up job, Luci. If Maze and I aren’t here, then it will suck for you.”

His heart warmed in a way it hadn’t in years. He remembered this, what it was like to have more than just one demon---try as Maze did---to care for him. While he would miss this regard, brief as the respite had been, he’d regret it more if he disregarded Constantine’s advice. The haunted look in the warlock’s eyes was too similar to the one he figured would be etched into his own face, if it could be read like that any longer.

“You owe me nothing, Beatrice. I’ve told you that before. It’s true now.”

“And if I go home, what? I just pretend this never happened, never let it slip to Mom about the whole miracle thing, and then realize there’s something I was created to do that I’ll try and ignore and hope I never accidentally do so no boogeymen ever find me.”

  
“That about sums it up, yes.”

She glared at him. “That sucks. I’m not going.”  


“Maze can drag you home, you know.”

“I’m not leaving here. I have school, I have friends, and I have a damn life. I also am not going to just pretend I’m not messed up because I am. I can’t just go ‘whelp, the world’s super normal’ and skip on down the road. I’m not good at denial. That’s Mom’s thing.”

He sighed and closed his eyes. He could not longer look at her for this. She settled back to her side as he heard the sheets rustling beneath her. “If it keeps you alive, it’s what you’ll bloody well do, child.”

“You can’t order me around.”  


“I can…”

“You’d tell Mom and Dad?”

“No, but you know it’s not safe here.”

“No, I know that Constantine guy’s an asshole who betrayed you and he might have some mojo but he’s not a psychic, right?”

“Not as such, no.”

“Then he _can’t_ know what might happen to me. I’m here, and what I know is that I was able to keep him from exorcising your sorry butt. So, you know, Maze’s lessons? Totally paying off and I’m not a child.”

“Close.”

“I can handle this. I’m not some sitting duck. I refuse to be, Luci. Just help me.”

“I’m trying,” he rumbled. “If something gets its fangs in you or worse…I will have to explain it to your mother, and I’m not about to do that. There is no torture in Hell that could be worse, and I would know.”

“I’m not leaving. So help me figure out whatever it is I’m supposed to do, and help me be even better with my blades.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Duh,” she said, slapping at his shoulder from across their impromptu pillow fort. “I’ll be a better fighter way faster if Old Scratch helps me too.”

It actually wasn’t a bloody awful idea, and the spawn had proven herself resourceful tonight. Hadn’t she?

“How did you even know to find us?”

“I got the info out of Ez. It made sense that, duh, you were walking into a trap. I mean, come on. What kind of deal wouldn’t let you bring Maze too? Luci, you need me. I’m clearly the brains of this operation.”

He huffed but couldn’t really object to that. “You have me there. Very well, we will postpone the ultimate decision on this, but I reserve the right to revisit this, especially if you’re hurt again.”

“Fair because I can handle myself, even if I’m mostly human.”

“Our whole problem is that you’re _not_, and the big bad world out there knows more about you than we do.”

“What’s a _Will_?” she asked, making his head spin with the change in topic.

“It’s complicated, urchin,” he said sadly, and he meant it. Will for him meant he was a tool, an extension at the most exquisite level of what his Father wanted, or, at least, Lucifer had been. “When we meet with Michael, it will…you’ll understand more.”

“Maybe a hint? About the whole demigorgon stuff or whatever.”

“Well, now I know who cued up _Stranger Things_ on my account lately. Urchin, it’s ‘demiurge’ and it’s the force of creation. My estranged arsehole twin and I…we had a special job amongst all the archangels. Father’s an architect, a planner. Michael and I did the grunt work, for lack of a better term.”

“Huh?”

“Michael can create matter from nothing, and I can will it…well I could when I was a real angel at any rate…I can _will_ the matter my brother creates into anything I wish or imagine.”

“What the fuck? Really?”  


“That’s quite a mouth on you, urchin.”

“I’m serious. That’s impossible.”

“I’m the Devil, you’re a miracle, and we had a fight with a warlock just hours ago. How impossible are you talking?”

“But this is…you can’t just will a universe to exist.”

“You cannot, whatever your own ability may or may not be, and I assume a form of conjuration or projecting. But we shall see.” He sighed. “However, once I could do many things. I told you I made the stars.”

“Well, yeah, but I assumed like angels took turns doing it. Like you’d make a few one week way back when then it was Amenadiel’s turn or whatever.”

“No, he cannot do it, never could.”

“Like so the entire universe?”

“It was a busy time back then,” he admitted. “Do you like it?”

“Oh man, you’re going to brag a lot about this, aren’t you? Like ‘see, aren’t dolphins great’ or ‘have you rather enjoyed ice cream lately because I thought up milk.’” She finished her rant in a truly appalling fake British accent. Granted, his wasn’t real either, but Beatrice’s was an affront to people with ears.

“Maybe,” he hedged. “But yes, I was the _Will_. I am not now. And, if you promise to work with me and Maze and do everything we say, as we say it in training, we’ll try and keep you here but that’s probationary now.”

“Ugh.” She picked her head back up again and then poked at his shoulder until he opened his eyes. “You can’t just turn that word around on me.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I can’t let you die. That’s the whole point of all of this.”

“And I can’t pretend that I don’t know what I do. I’m not just…I want to know what I can do and what I can’t. I want being a miracle to _mean_ something, you know? So, sure, I’ll learn to fight even more and do everything you want. You’re that like total old dude, and I’m Rocky, gotcha.”

“Oh, Dad help us all.”

“I…don’t throw me out.”

He softened his voice, being as calm as he could in his reply. “You can’t honestly assume that’s what I’m doing. I’d never throw you away likes so much rubbish, Beatrice, but I will do anything to keep you safe, even if it’s sending you home to Austin. So, for now, to stay here, you better train hard. You won’t get second chances when things go wrong. Ask poor, dear Charlotte.”

“I know,” she said, falling back to her side of the mattress. The silence stretched so long between them that he assumed she was asleep until she spoke again. “Luci?”  


“Urchin, you do have Spanish class tomorrow, and if I’m going to have to fight my twin, which considering the stick up Michael’s arse, I will, we _both_ need rest. You’re insufferable. Shall I go back to bribing you like when you were a kid? If I give you a crisp c-note will you let me sleep?”

She laughed. “Well, if you’re offering to just give me a hundred bucks, I’m not going to say no.”

“Assuredly not.

“I tried,” She sighed, and her sheets ruffled again as she seemed to try to get comfortable. “I just…thanks.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“The universe. I mean, you didn’t make the raw parts or the plans, but I really like how it came out. All those galaxies, they’re gorgeous. You did a good thing, and you should be proud.”

He laughed, not unkindly, and carefully pulled his blanket up higher. “Thank you, Beatrice, but pride in my accomplishments is how this whole mess began, but I’m rather glad you fancy the stars. I feel that’s safe enough.”

“More than that. You did a good thing, Luci. You do them all the time, and one day, maybe you’ll see that.”

He swallowed hard, and it took a while before he could speak again. “I…goodnight, urchin.”

“Night, Lucifer.”


End file.
